


It takes a lifetime

by sophos (ians_carer)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Coming Out, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 10:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13972671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ians_carer/pseuds/sophos
Summary: Written for the ignoct gift exchange, prom-t on tumblr, they asked for something to do with trans noct so I just kind of took the idea and ran with it. Hope you like it!This is kind of a brief few snapshots of Noct's life, coming out, the anxiety surrounding it, the scary bits, the good bits, all rounded out with some happy moments spent with the man he loves.





	It takes a lifetime

“Iggy. I need to tell you something.”

 

Yeah, sure, maybe on the way to school isn’t the best time to have a conversation like this, for several reasons. Just one is the fact that at least half of Iggy’s attention is going to be on the road for this revelation, and he isn’t usually stoked about distractions of any kind. Except for the David Bowie album playing in the car that’s sort of not really a surprising music choice for him. Most people would probably peg Iggy as a  _ Bach _ , or  _ Debussy _ kinda guy just by looking at him, but the thing they tend to forget is that despite how he attempts to appear, he’s still only fucking 19. He stays up way too late and is way too addicted to caffeine, and Aulea happens to know that he’s had his fair share of panic attacks over the course of his high school life, and he’s only just starting to get over them, in addition to the wicked acne he’s been obsessively trying to eliminate since the day he turned 13. 

 

Anyway, just as she expects, those infuriatingly handsome, sharp eyes dart to hers through the rearview mirror and then away again in just a breath as he changes lanes, swerving through traffic with the sort of elegance everyone has come to associate with him. 

 

It isn’t like Aulea woke up today thinking to herself: “I want to come out to Iggy today.” Because that’s just not how it works. Though she’s never done it before, she knows that this sort of thing isn’t going to be pretty, no matter how he reacts. It’s just this sudden, horrible, hollow fucking feeling that gnaws at her to let someone know. To be honest for the first time in her life. Dark eyes flit along the small trees growing on the side of the road.

 

“I’m listening.” He says simply. Ignis has no way of knowing the ridiculous shit his darling princess is about to toss his way. How could he know? It’s not like “Hey, I actually kinda maybe think I might be a boy.” Is a normal thing to say, or a normal thing for him to expect from her. In a lot of ways it feels unfair to tell him, because how is he supposed to know how to react? How is anyone supposed to react? Sure, maybe Ignis is kind of the least threatening (or most?? Aulea doesn’t fucking know.) person to tell, but it just marks the first stretch. It eliminates the possibility of turning back, and even if he smiles and says it’s alright, he doesn’t think of her differently, would she likes his help -- it’s not like that’ll make it any easier and -- fuck. 

  
  


_ Fuck. _

 

_ Calm the fuck down. It’s fine. It’s Ignis. You’ve only known him your entire life and he’d do anything for you and you’ve recently maybe sort of realized how fucking attractive he is and maybe you’re in love with him but also maybe this will ruin your chances of being with him, who knows? _

 

_ Shit. _

 

“Aulea? Is everything alright?”

Shit he realized something’s wrong, abort, fucking abort!

 

“Uhm, yeah. I just uh…” She hates how her voice sounds, and she knows that Ignis will pick up on it immediately. They know each other way too well. It’s normally really comforting, but now it’s kinda scary.

 

“Ignis can you maybe pull over for a second?” She says, unable to raise her eyes from her hands in her lap, which are currently engaged in wrinkling her uniform and her stupid -- skirt. 

 

Fuck.

 

Ignis, to his credit, flicks on the blinker and pulls over almost instantly. He can apparently tell that this isn’t some ploy to get out of going to school today. His eyes meet hers through the mirror again before he’s turning around in his seat, unclipping the seatbelt to get a good look at her.

 

“What’s wrong?” Way too nice, and sweet, and soft, and she really kind of wants to kiss him for it, except that he probably wouldn’t appreciate it very much.

 

In the end, Aulea is only brave enough to meet his pretty, light green eyes for almost three seconds before she’s looking back down again, and suddenly her vision is blurry and her chest aches and she’s never hated what she is more than in this moment.

 

There’s a cacophony rattling around inside her head, asking:  _ Why me? Why can’t I be normal? Why can’t I pretend this thing inside of me doesn’t exist? Why do I have to turn myself inside-out to be seen? Everyone is going to know my deepest, darkest fucking secret, and I hate it. I hate it, I fucking hate it, I just want to be normal, why can’t I be happy like this, why -- why -- why -- _

 

It’s a thousand things all at once and all of them hurt. All of them fog her vision and make it hard to see as tears drip down her face and suddenly there’s a slam of a car door and Ignis is beside her, pulling her into his arms and tucking her underneath his chin. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me how.” He murmurs softly, and he sounds so fucking heartbroken that it just makes everything worse.

 

_ “I’m sorry.” _ It sounds pathetic, even to her own ears as she curls into his embrace, seeking his comfort even if the worst of it hasn’t even begun yet. 

 

“Shh, don’t apologize, it’s alright. You don’t have to apologize to me for anything.” And that, weirdly enough, is what gives her the courage to sniffle and try to get control back, even if she is clinging to his suit jacket and probably ruining his shirt with her tears. 

 

“Ignis?” Aulea asks, and she’s still quiet, and snotty, and really gross -- not that her and Ignis haven’t ever been gross around each other before. She was around the first time he got drunk enough to puke messily into her toilet and then cry for fifteen minutes afterwards about what a failure he’s turning out to be -- not one of his best moments, and he’d probably be mortified to know she still remembers it, but it reminds her that there’s very little they have to hide from one another at this point. It’s just that, you know, this… Is the last thing. After this, he’ll know everything about her. And that’s really frightening.

 

“I’m right here.” Ignis holds her a bit tighter and presses his cheek into her hair, currently trimmed neatly around her chin. It’s short, but she’d been advised against getting a more masculine cut, and for some reason right now she hates it. One of his hands rubs soothingly along her back, and he shifts in the seat next to her, drawing up a leg to get them a bit closer. It’s been a long time since they were this close to each other and it’s really, really nice. Ignis is warm and solid and the sound of his heartbeat against her ear helps her calm down until all that’s left is her hollow stomach, and her brain shouting at her that now is the time to come clean.

 

“This is going to sound weird.” Aulea eventually says, breaking a silence that feels way too long, and her voice seems to be swallowed by the intimate space, leaving only the sound of her harsh breathing and his fingers scraping along the wool of her school jacket. Tactfully, he doesn’t say anything this time, staying quiet and allowing her to gather her strength. “I’m…” She realizes that she doesn’t even know what to say, and stumbles over the thought for a moment. “I’m… trans.” It’s out, and it’s terrifying, and part of her is glad she can’t see his face, but when his hand stills on her back it feels like the earth swallowing her up and something stabbing her heart and suddenly his embrace is a lot less comforting. 

 

When she pulls away, Ignis looks almost confused, his brows furrowed and his beautiful eyes searching her face and it’s like a thousands emotions passing through him at once, but she can’t name or even recognize them all. He looks like he’s at a loss for words, and logically, she knows why. Ignis is a man who plans for every contingency. Thinking under pressure is sort of in his job description, but Aulea knows he’s not actually very good at it. He just makes up for it by planning everything meticulously. 

 

Aulea doesn’t do her homework? He has at least 5 different tactics to deal with that at any given time, and Ignis has them all memorized. But how the fuck was he supposed to plan for this? It’s not normal, because she’s not normal and -- shit, fucking fuck, shit. She scoots away from him and her heart seizes: “I’m sorry, I know that you’re not --” 

 

“No, I don’t want to hear any of that.” Ignis cuts in, his eyes seeming to focus on her, and he looks sad again. Frazzled, and like he’s trying to understand. “Am I the first person you’ve told?” He asks, and he looks like he’s worried the answer will be yes. She thinks.

 

“... Yeah.” She mumbles after a moment and looks down, and then she’s crying again. The hollow feeling is gone, because now he knows, and now she can’t hide, and she’s left feeling raw and vulnerable. And then his arms are around her again and it fucking hurts. It feels like her insides trying to get out, and her shoulders shake with the intensity of it, and she almost doesn’t hear him when he says: “Thank you for trusting me.”

 

\--

 

School that day is terrible. Ignis decides to allow her to skip her first class, and instead takes her out for a coffee to help calm her nerves. They sit in his car in a parking lot for a little while and talk more once Aulea is capable of deepening the conversation. 

 

She watches as his gloved finger trails along the rim of his coffee cup and he asks her if she’d like him to start using different pronouns, to which she hesitantly offers that, yes, she would like that, and he nods like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

 

Aulea isn’t even capable of referring to herself differently yet, but maybe if someone else starts doing it, she’ll get more used to the idea that… Yeah, this is real, and it’s really happening to her right now. 

 

“Do you have a different name you’d like me to use, at least in private?” Ignis asks, and she admits that she doesn’t, but she’s been looking into it. She has a couple ideas, but she’ll let him know when she’s picked one. It’s the part in the conversation where one might expect him to tell her how brave she is, and how strong she is, and how proud of her he is that she’s moving forward with this, but they both know that it’s something that goes unsaid. 

 

It’s part of why they get along so well. Aulea and Ignis have always been pretty quiet people, working more off of subtext than text, because growing up in politics makes you a bit distrustful of the things someone says with their mouth, when often their body language is way more honest. And anyway, neither of them are very good with emotional stuff either, and they both know that about each other. 

 

One crying session is enough for today. 

 

Their conversation eventually hits a lull, and Aulea gets the impression that Ignis is thinking really hard about something, by the way his perfect eyebrows draw together and his lips form a thin line.

 

“I don’t mean to diminish what you’ve told me today, but in the interest of being open with one another…” Ignis takes in a deep breath through his nose, and Aulea has no clue what he’s about to say and it’s pretty fucking nerve-wracking. His gaze flicks to her and the discomfort is palpable. “I am… gay.”

 

_ Oh. _

 

She blinks. She doesn’t know what to do with this information, but the end result is her feeling just a little worse. Mostly because what it says to her is that she hasn’t got a single chance with him. The point is that he’s trying to even the playing field. Show a little bit of what’s beneath his sleeve, be honest with her, and she’s pretty sure he’s never told anyone that either, but… It makes her stupid crush on him feel a hell of a lot more stupid.

 

“... Cool.” She says eventually, and doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the day, barely grunting when he offers her a kinder than usual goodbye when he drops her off in time for second period. What she manages to miss though, is the way his hands are nearly white-knuckled on the steering wheel as he pulls away. The way he has to breath so meticulously before he can pull over and allow his freak-out to subside.

 

\--

 

It’s a fortnight before they have any sort of conversation about Aulea’s transition again, and Ignis would be lying if he said he didn’t see his charge a little differently after that day. But is it really a bad thing? Isn’t it what he would want? To be seen as himself, to strip away the film that had covered him before? 

 

The pronouns are strange, to change in the comfort of his own head, and there isn’t much opportunity to speak them aloud either, when Ignis is the only one who knows. But he is diligent about it, and committed to honoring that wish. When they next speak on it, Ignis has noticed that Aulea has begun dressing a little differently. A little more masculine, but nothing out of the ordinary. He stops wearing eyeliner and mascara, likely in an effort to appear as he wishes. And it makes Ignis glad, even if for the time being it feels a bit like their own secret. He’s making dinner: salmon and asparagus, a vegetable that Aulea doesn’t seem to mind as much as some others. 

 

“I uh… I’ve been thinking of names.” He says, and Ignis only just glances over his shoulder as he covers the salmon to let it cook for a moment.

 

“Oh?” Ignis responds. Since that day he’s looked much more into the logistics and stories of transitions, in order to be as much of a support system as it’s possible for him to be. If this is how he is needed, he will do his utmost to be there for his friend.

 

“Yeah.” Aulea says, and pauses the video game he’s playing to cross his legs on the couch and turn towards Ignis. He sounds nervous, but it’s to be expected -- from what Ignis has learned, this sort of thing is very hard and strange at first, even if you have known it to be the truth for your whole life. It makes his heart ache to think that someone so dear to him must have been suffering for so long. The difficulty of it is not lost on him, though he is fully aware that he will likely never be able to understand what Aulea is going through. 

 

“I was, uh, I was thinking about… Noctis.” He says, and it would be a bit cute, how unsure he sounds, were the subject matter not so deathly serious for him. 

 

“Noctis Lucis Caelum has a lovely ring to it.” Ignis smiles, though it’s not seen, and checks on the asparagus in the oven. 

 

“Yeah?” He asks, and he sounds a little more upbeat this time. It’s almost as if he had been searching for Ignis’ approval with his choice, which is utterly preposterous -- as if Ignis would ever claim any sort of ownership upon the name he should choose.

 

“Would you like me to start using that for now?”

 

“Yeah, I think I like it.” The game is unpaused, and he goes straight back to playing, and there are no more words on the subject, but privately, Ignis begins to correct Aulea to Noctis in his head. 

 

\--

 

From there, things change slowly. Noctis wants to get a new haircut, and sheepishly asks Ignis to go with him, something to which he immediately agrees, of course. As he walks away from the barber’s chair, he's positively beaming, asking Ignis how it looks, does he like it? And of course he does -- how could he dislike something that clearly makes his best friend so happy?

 

Noctis is different. He smiles a bit more as he grows into himself. Buys new clothes, a binder, he comes out to Gladio and Prompto, though he privately agonizes to Ignis over text about it, and it takes some coaxing to get him confident enough to actually tell them, and he seems even happier once they know too, and together, in the privacy of their small group, Noctis is free to be himself.

 

It becomes uncomfortable for Ignis to refer to him with different pronouns and his old name in court and around others, but he puts his mind at rest with the thought that it's what Noctis wants, for now, and far be it from him to accidentally out him before he's ready. 

 

But it's inevitable that people will begin to notice something different, with their princess and her boyish haircut, and the fact that her chest seems to have disappeared overnight, and she only dresses in clothes that hide her figure. Or perhaps people don't notice others enough for that, perhaps no one truly cares. That is, until Noctis’ birthday comes up, and with it, a kingdom-wide ball. Ignis doesn't have to be terribly apt at reading emotions to know that he's positively dreading it. 

 

“I want to wear a suit.” He says, picking at the blanket he's dragged from his room to the couch. It makes Ignis’ heart ache. He's had the opportunity to see Noctis becoming himself over the past few months, and every day has brought with it a new and stunning realization that this is who he is. That Ignis is, for the first time, getting to know who Noctis truly is, and his veil of apathy seems to dispel as he moves forward with his transition. He is different, yes, but he is so much more real: solid, someone finished and whole and working on picking away the superfluous pieces of himself. 

 

“Do you want to come out publicly?” Ignis asks, because he has to, because if Noctis wears a suit, unfortunately, that is likely the effect it will have on the general population. The nail in the coffin, the  _ a-ha _ moment. Conversely, the thought of Noctis spending his 18th birthday miserable and in a dress makes him almost want to hit something.

 

“I dunno… That sounds pretty…” The thought is finished with a rush of air from his lungs, and a small shake of his head, like the thought of it is insurmountable.  “I dunno.” Noctis repeats, leaning back and looking at Ignis with a disturbingly insightful gaze. 

 

“You don't have to.” 

 

“I know I don't, but… I feel kinda like I should, you know?” Noctis swallows and groans, rubbing at his face with both hands. “It's just… scary, y’know?” 

 

“I know.” It's a simple response. Understanding and calm and Ignis settles next to him on the couch, prim and proper and learning how to navigate this situation even as he worries whether he's going about it correctly. “We can still go have you fitted for a suit. We can even visit my tailor instead of yours. Is that something you'd like to do?”

 

Noctis is quiet for a long moment before he leans back against Ignis’ shoulder, finding comfort in the clean mint and sort of floral scent he gives off. “Yeah, I think I do.”

 

“I'll arrange an appointment for sometime this week.”

 

\--

 

Seeing Noctis in a suit, happy, and smiling, and tugging on the sleeves as he turns in the mirror is breathtaking in a way Ignis never expected. It fits almost perfectly, and it's a lot like the glass slipper in Cinderella that way. It's perfectly his style: black, with subtle golden accents. Regal and understated and absolutely stunning with his pale skin and dark hair, and Ignis wonders when he started becoming aware of this sort of thing. 

 

Somewhere along the way he's fallen in love with that smile, and it's much more frequent now than it was before. It makes him look radiant.

 

“Whaddya think?” He asks, shrugging and stuffing his hands in the pockets, but the happy glint in his eyes isn't hidden away so easily. 

 

“I think it's perfect.”

 

\--

 

There’s much deliberation on Noctis’ end about whether or not he should come out at his birthday party, and Ignis has trouble nudging him in one direction or another. To him, it reeks of disaster either way, and the last thing he wants is for Noctis to remember his coming-of-age as a terrible night. But though he tries to appear aloof and nonchalant, Ignis knows him too well to know that it’s what he truly wants to do, even if he’s scared of the decision he knows he’ll ultimately make.

 

He does, however, urge Noctis to tell his father before the party, so the king may act as a support for him if things go badly, and though his skin goes a bit pale at the idea of it, Noctis agrees that that’s probably a good idea. As it turns out, from what Noctis says to him, Regis reacts well, if a bit confused at first, which Noctis admits he should have expected. He impresses upon his son the idea that it’s a very big step to take, to want to come out to the general populace, and that there’s no hurry if he wants to think on it more, but Noctis is already certain, and his father agrees to move forward with the idea. 

 

The grand hall reeks of opulence on every surface and in every guest. Crystals and gems seem to sparkle off of lights everywhere, and it is entirely not the sort of way Noctis prefers to spend an evening, Ignis already knows.

 

Vaguely, he wonders if this is the way  _ anyone _ enjoys spending their evening. 

 

But the night is, in the end, a success. With the king by him, supporting him through his nervous but firm declaration, the people take it well. They raise their glasses in respect to their prince, but Ignis suspects the unanimous acceptance has more to do with Regis’ presence in the ballroom than anything else. 

 

Things over the next few years, and the few years after that, are, in a word, turbulent. Therapy, testosterone, new mood swings, new feelings, a new person emerging from the effects of the hormone therapy, Noctis changes, but as things begin to wind down, he is happy. The public stops caring, and so does Noctis, and then things change. 

 

Their home is taken from them. The roadtrip is, by and large, the most pivotal experience of their lives. And then… Noct is taken from them. 

 

From Ignis. And it's terrifying. For one moment he is with them, the next he's gone. For ten years. Ten years in which Ignis lives for him, and, perhaps sometimes,  _ stops _ living for him. Spends most of his waking moments hating himself for never being brave enough to tell Noct that he loves him. Through everything, Ignis finds, that is the constant. Noctis smiling, happy, is what brings him joy. And for a very long time, he fears he squandered the opportunity.

 

\--

 

“Ignis.” He hears, and the sound of that voice is so familiar his chest aches. Ignis is perched on the edge of their bed, his meticulous outfit pulled half-off, trousers laid over a chair, open shirt still hooked into his shirt stays, and his sightless eyes raise in response to Noctis’ voice. He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. 

 

“Your highness.” Ignis rumbles, deep in his throat as he hears Noctis settle in front of him, kneeling between his legs. Warm fingers run up the tops of his thighs, and he hears a chuckle on the king’s lips. 

 

“That sort of night, huh?” Noct’s hands settle on his hips, and Ignis can feel his cheek resting against the inside of his leg. Two of his fingers move down to play at the hem of his boxer briefs.

 

Ignis holds his breath. “If it pleases your highness.” He hedges, and lowers his chin in deference to his king. 

 

He can hear Noct raising up on his knees, and then a palm is cupping his cheek, a thumb rubbing over his jawline. “Everything you do pleases me, Iggy. You’re beautiful. Perfect.”

 

It makes his chest hurt. His breath catch in his throat, and Ignis’ eyebrows pull together. Noctis, so close to him, smells like musk and spice. Warm and comforting, and he wants to give Noct anything he desires. “Far from perfect, I fear.” He breathes, and leans into that palm, turns enough to kiss it with the corners of his lips.

 

He fancies he can hear the shatter in Noct’s expression as he speaks, and one hand becomes two, guiding Ignis’ face towards his own, and on instinct, his eye closes. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.” There’s no other word to describe the way he sounds, save for heartbroken. It makes Ignis feel guilty. “You’ve given me everything, you know that?” Their foreheads are leaned together, and Ignis can feel hot breath across his lips. A sigh. “Fucking everything.”

 

“You disregard your own strengths to say such things.” Ignis comments, and returns the embrace, his own clumsy fingers finding Noct’s scratchy cheek. “I have always merely been your support.”

 

“Shut up, Ignis.” Dry lips cover his own, filling him with a deep warmth, tangible enough to cause his heart to stutter, and Ignis follows his king’s lead as he is pressed back into the sheets, lets himself be turned breathless by the ardour of their kisses. Ignis reaches for Noct, tries to wind fingers into his hair, trails them down his side and discovers that he’s utterly nude. These days, Noctis’ body is softer in some places and bonier in others, but it doesn’t matter. Ignis still knows he is beautiful. Nothing will ever change that. As he stumbles across this discovery, his breath catches in his throat, but a moment later his hands are being pushed away, placed gentle, but firm over his head. His wrists are squeezed once, a silent command to leave them there.

 

And so Ignis obeys -- of course he does. He always will. 

 

There are lips at the corner of his mouth; Ignis turns to meet them. Lips over his jaw, throat, behind his ear.

 

“I love you, Ignis.” His voice is raw, as if it’s a realization he’s only now having. Long strands of hair tickle at his collarbone. Noctis begins to undress him, picking at the straps of his shirt stays.

 

“I love you.” Ignis’ voice sounds just as raw, scared, and vulnerable. Slowly, the rest of his clothes are peeled away and he is left bared before his king. His love. Beautiful and strong and everything Ignis has always known him to be. 

 

Noct’s mouth trails down his body, murmuring sweet nothings into his skin, and Ignis keeps his hands above his head, unafraid to arch into those teeth when they latch around the flesh of his nipple, when they suck a bruise into his hip. “You’re beautiful, Ignis.” He says again, and it aches. His chest and neck and cheeks feel warm beneath the praise and attention. 

 

And words stop as Ignis submits to his king, as he lays beneath him and whispers benedictions into soft morning air. He takes what Noctis is willing to give, curls his fingers and toes as he's swallowed down, listens to the sweetly muffled moans and sighs made around the hot flesh of his cock. The sounds are wet and lewd between them, loud underneath the sunrise painting their sheets, but it only serves to drive their desperation higher.

 

“You're so good to me, Ignis.” Noct breathes, his voice rasping as he pulls off of Ignis’ cock with a wet pop, leaving the man beneath him keening his disappointment. But there's barely a moment to wallow in that feeling before Noct is above him again, sinking down onto his body and they both sigh in unison. 

 

Blind fingers reach for hollow cheeks and guide their mouths together until they are joined there too, chests slick with sweat and hips rolling to chase their pleasure. “Disobeying so early in the day.” Noct chuckles against his neck, gasping with the heat inside of him. 

 

“It was _a-ahh,_ a cruel command.” Ignis insists, but he truly doesn't mind, so lost does he become in the intoxicating presence of his love. 

 

“I'll have to punish you for it later, you know.” The words are low and seductive in his ear, dripping like chocolate, and Ignis hears the smile bred from his full body shiver, cries out as Noct bites his neck and pinches his nipples simultaneously.

 

“I have no doubt you will.” He gasps, and a moment later, with a few knocking knees, they're rolled over in the sheets, and Ignis hovers over Noctis, lips twisted in a cheeky smile as he presses back inside of his body. 

 

Below him, Noct growls and clutches at his shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist. “You're getting too cocky, Scientia.”

 

“Scientia, now, is it? I think I'm looking forward to this punishment, later.”

 

Noctis’ voice in lost in a strangled groan as they make love, and become lost in a symphony of their own gasps and moans.

 

How far they have come with one another. How hard they have fought for these moments together. Some days it feels like a dream, to wake up by his side. Something Ignis thinks he may not deserve, but he will cherish it until the end of his days, regardless.

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to end it with some good old dom trans noct, but everything got way softer than I meant it to.


End file.
